Small Clause Out
by authoressnebula
Summary: Gen. Spoilers for Season 3. There's a way out of the deal, one that'll have Dean back at Sam's side. Problem is, it isn't going to really be the same; not with Sam now the oldest between them. Sam, Dean, Ruby, Bobby.
1. Chapter 1

This was it. The only shot they really had to break the deal, and it still _sucked_. Sam was still going to lose Dean, his Dean, and not get him back unless some mystical being decided to like them for once. Considering how their lives had been going as of late, Sam was going to take a guess and say no.

Dean was cocky again, but there was a happiness with it that hadn't been there those first few months of the deal. Three days until he came due, and they were going to break the deal tonight.

They just had to be careless on the hunt.

"Kinda be funny if we went through all of this, and I forgot to wear the thing, wouldn't it?" Dean asked with a grin when they stepped out of the vehicle. Empty house, wandering poltergeist. No spirit to take Dean, no werewolf to rip him to pieces, no crossroad nearby just in case they decided three days was close enough to collect. He wasn't sure how intact the body had to be, but they weren't taking chances.

Sam's glare told Dean exactly how very unfunny it would really be. Dean held up his hands in surrender, even as he put the amulet on. It was silver and thin, with a vein of red running through it. The only one on his neck now; he'd already given Sam his personal amulet. "You gotta start wearing one of these, too," Dean said with a raised eyebrow. "Not cool if you get killed, kiddo. Kinda defeats the whole purpose."

"You think?" Sam muttered, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the fact that this was his last night with his big brother.

He'd have him back, but it wasn't going to be the same. Never again.

They stepped inside, Dean in front of Sam, and immediately began searching for their unfriendly poltergeist. When pictures began flying off of walls, Sam shoved Dean up the stairs and into the first room, shutting the door behind him. Then they waited.

It didn't take long. Some chairs were thrown, the sofa was thrown, and then Dean was thrown against the wall. "Sam!" he shouted, when the table came flying towards Sam's head. Sam ducked, then pulled out the banishing spell. He could still say it, still say it fast enough that Dean'd be okay, but then their entire plan would get shot.

Sam began to speak the first line, haltingly slow. When he finished the first line, he stopped, as if taking a breath. Dean glanced over at him and gave him a wink. "See you on the flip side, Sammy," he said.

Right before the pissed off poltergeist opened the door and threw him down the stairs.

Sam closed his eyes tight, trying to ignore the sounds he heard. When they stopped, only then did he reopen his eyes to finish the spell. The poltergeist disappeared with a wail and flash of light, and Sam was left alone in the room.

He threw the book to the floor and hurried out of the room, only to stop at the top of the stairs. Dean was in a heap at the bottom, not breathing.

Sam stepped down carefully after him, before kneeling at his brother's side. He reached out and gently closed Dean's half open eyes, then rested his hand on Dean's shoulder and began to recite the only spell that was worth reciting.

The amulet around Dean's neck glowed once, before dimming.

* * *

Four days later, Sam went back to the empty house. He stepped into the foyer, gazing at the bottom of the stairs. Dean had vanished. He bit his lip, then turned to his watch. Another few minutes or so, and then-

"You fight dirty, you Winchesters."

Sam glanced up at the hissing voice to find red eyes glaring at him. She was a cute brunette, whoever she was. Right now, though, she was all demon. And pissed. "We did nothing illegal," Sam said simply. He'd have glared if he hadn't been so suddenly overjoyed and sure that their plan had worked. She wouldn't be this angry if it hadn't. "You were the one who failed to specify the dimensions of time Dean had to stay in hell."

"I hope you both come down to hell to rot," she snapped, before she disappeared.

That was about the time Sam heard the cry from outside.

He hurried through the door, then froze before he took another step. There, on the porch, was a baby in a single white blanket.

The only other thing it was wearing was a silver amulet far too big for it.

It continued to wail, and Sam gently crouched to pick the baby up. Carefully he held his charge, shushing and mumbling soothing nonsense until the baby stopped crying. Big green eyes stared back at him.

Sam swallowed hard. "Hey Dean," he whispered.

* * *

The first year was hard. Not because babies were hard; Jess's cousin had brought a newborn over that one Thanksgiving, and Sam had simply adored her, while Jess had adored that _he_ adored the baby. Newborns were worrisome because they were so small and dependant, but Sam was used to worrying about Dean.

No, the hard part was that he constantly kept looking to Dean for advice, or to answer his question, and realized his brother wasn't there. Not really.

It was Dean, though. A beautiful, healthy baby boy that Sam remembered from the pictures Jenny had found in their old house. Dean's soul was in there, too, somewhere. He'd spent three days dead plus one inside the contract, just in case. Then the silver amulet had changed fate.

Reincarnation. Just with specifics attached, so really, it was a being reborn type of deal.

It didn't mean that Sam still didn't miss Dean, though.

The second year wasn't all that bad. He'd stopped looking for his brother to answer and instead started trying to teach his brother to talk. And walk. And eat. And to play games, recognize colors, sleep through the night. The usual stuff.

He'd wound up renting a house only twenty minutes from Bobby. He'd thought long and hard about it, thought about giving Dean up to a family so he could have a mom and dad, then...couldn't. If Dean ever remembered what he'd been, he didn't want him somewhere that he couldn't find Sam.

And, truthfully, it was because Sam was selfish. He refused to give up the last part of his brother he had. Then Bobby had pointed out that it was the best thing for Dean, too, because Sam would protect him from _everything_, raise him right. Personally, Sam thought he'd said it because he knew how Sam thought about their childhood. He was right, though. Sam wanted Dean to have a childhood he could remember with a smile. Even if it was without a mom and dad.

He settled for being Uncle Sam, which Bobby teased him about mercilessly. "Should get you a long top hat with the American colors," he'd mentioned once, before Sam had threatened to paint his truck pink. Dean, meanwhile, had clapped his hands and giggled from his high chair.

The third and fourth years were fairly easy, too. Dean was learning fast, faster than even Sam had learned at that age, and Sam sadly wondered how much potential Dean could've had if the fire hadn't happened. At least this time around, Dean would have that chance.

It was during the fifth year that things got tough.

* * *

"Uncle Sammy?"

"Yeah kiddo," Sam said, leaning back in his chair and stretching. He glanced to his right, where Dean was standing in the doorway. "What's up?"

"Are we gonna go to Mister Bobby's for dinner?"

Sam grinned. "Why, you don't want his hot dogs for dinner?"

Dean shook his head rapidly. "No, I do! I was just wonnerin'."

"Won-der-_ing_," Sam enunciated.

"Won-dur-_eeeng_," Dean repeated with exasperation. Sam chuckled and turned in his desk chair.

Dean hurried over, arms already open to meet Sam's own arms. He slammed into Sam with a grin, then giggled when Sam hoisted him into the air and onto his lap. When he was up high enough to see what Sam had on the desk, though, he frowned. "Whatcha readin'?" he asked.

"Big guy stuff," Sam said, reaching out to close the book on demons and prophecies. Bobby had mentioned something about a ton of demon omens out further west, had asked Sam to look stuff up on it. "No stories for five year olds."

"_Six_," Dean said, crossing his arms.

"You're not six yet, Dean."

"Almost! Only 'few more days," Dean said firmly. "Might as well be six."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, before standing with a groan, Dean still in his arms. Dean immediately wrapped his legs and arms around Sam. "Well, then if you're six, I'll have to put you down. Six year olds can't be carried anymore."

Dean gasped and stared at him. "Yuh-_huh_!"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. It's a rule, you know." Never mind that a ten year old Dean had carried a six year old Sam many _many_ times. And that a twenty-six year old Dean had carried a twenty-two year old Sam out of harm's way several times.

Sam's chest tightened at the memories, but he'd long since learned to let them pass. No use wishing for something that wasn't going to happen anymore. He'd learned to let it go.

"Are you sad again, Uncle Sammy?"

Dean, however, had learned to see it before he could let it go. "You miss your friend, don't you," Dean continued.

Sam managed a smile. "Yeah, I do," he said honestly. After Dean had caught him one day crying over a picture of a Dean much older, he'd told Dean about a friend. A friend he'd lost a few days before he'd gotten Dean. When Dean asked about him, he couldn't help but tell him things, things he'd hopefully see one day when Dean regrew into the brother Sam missed so badly it hurt some days.

"He must've been somebody pretty cool," Dean added, and Sam felt the burn of tears.

"He really was," he whispered, before hugging Dean. Dean's return hug was tight, and Sam had to close his eyes. Dean was right there, _right there_, in his arms, but he couldn't have been further away.

He pulled away, blinking his tears away before he regarded his now solemn brother. "I miss him a lot, but you know what?" he asked softly. Dean shook his head quickly.

Sam gave a small smile. "I got you out of it, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."

Dean's smile was bright and beautiful, and Sam's own smile got wider. He missed his Dean so much, it did hurt sometimes. This Dean, though, his brother happy at the age of six (_five_ he mentally corrected himself) was someone he loved just as much. His brother had never been this carefree and happy and innocent at this age. That had been shattered when he'd been only four years old. Sam was going to make damn sure it lasted well past that this time around.

Sam lowered Dean down until his feet were on the floor. "Go get your jacket, and we can go get dinner," he said. Dean needed no further prompting, turning and bounding out of the office to his bedroom.

Sam watched him go with a wistful smile, before turning back to the book. He seriously couldn't pick Dean up anymore; Dean was still young and small, really, but Sam sure as hell wasn't getting any younger. He was thirty-one, now. He still had streamers in his office from when Dean had surprised him with a cupcake and paper colors for his birthday. Sneaky little kid had brought Bobby into it, too.

He grabbed the book from the desk, along with several others, then headed out of the office. He glanced over his shoulder towards the bedrooms, grinning. "If you're not outside in five, I'm leaving without you!" he called.

A giggle was his only reply, and Sam headed for his shoes with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The Impala had barely parked in Bobby's driveway before Dean was running out, laughing all the way. "Nuh-_uh_!" he said through his giggles. "I'M gonna beat you inside!"

"Oh yeah?" Sam challenged, making a show of hurrying out of the car. With a shriek Dean was heading for the door, little feet pounding against the dirt in his haste to get inside before Sam did.

Once Dean was off at a run Sam stopped pretending and simply closed the car up. He finally turned his attention to the house, but frowned when he saw Dean still outside, and not inside with his tongue sticking out in triumph. Only when Sam glanced further did he find the cause for Dean's stop.

"Hi Miss Ruby," Dean said as Sam moved closer. "Are you gonna have dinner with us tonight, too?"

"I'm thinking about it," the blonde woman said. She crouched down near Dean, before reaching into her pocket. "Got something for you, kiddo. Since it's your birthday soon, or so I've heard." Dean watched, eyes now wide in excitement, as she pulled a small green leaf from her pocket.

"What is it?"

"It's a four leaf clover," she explained, handing it to Dean. He took it reverently, staring at the little leaves in awe. "It's a good luck charm. Keep it on you."

"I will," he promised, just as Sam stopped behind him.

She stood, long hair thrown casually over her shoulder as she did so. "Hi Sam," she said.

"Hello Ruby," he replied just as evenly. She still looked as young as she had almost seven years ago, when they'd first met. Demons tended to be able to do that with their hosts; age wasn't an issue.

"Hope you don't mind the company for dinner," Bobby called from the porch. "Said she had something to tell you."

Her arrival was too well timed with everything else going on, and Sam had long stopped believing in coincidences. He pursed his lips but merely nodded. When Dean turned back to look at him, though, he found a smile that was genuine for him. "Why don't you help Mr. Bobby set up dinner?" he asked, nodding towards the door. "Go on."

"Could use some help from a big guy," Bobby chimed in, and Dean nodded before hurrying up the steps.

Sam watched him disappear inside, already showing Bobby his new treasure. "He makes a cute kid," Ruby said, stepping closer to Sam. "Impeccable manners, too, for someone so young. Or did you just tell him to be polite to all demons he meets?"

"I already told you, he doesn't know," Sam said, turning towards her. "He's not going to, either. I'm keeping him out of this."

"Because it worked so well for you," Ruby shot back, before giving an aggravated sigh. "I'm not here to fight with you over Dean. I'm here to tell you what you've probably already guessed, and don't want to hear."

Sam glanced back towards the house. "Lilith," he said quietly. He'd hoped the deal they'd made would've gotten both Dean and himself off of her radar and out of her sights.

Apparently not.

"Well, you're not wrong," Ruby said, scuffing the dirt with her boot. "Problem is, she's not the worst part of it. You gave up your claim to the throne which, in my opinion _still_, you shouldn't have done."

Figured she'd find a way to get that in there. "I wasn't risking Dean or myself," he said, giving her a look. "Dean was almost _two_, Ruby. Besides, I never wanted the throne to start with. Lilith took the throne, the war ceased, and she made sure I was left alone for it." That battle had raged for a good two months before all the i's had been dotted and the t's had been crossed.

Then the rest of what she said registered, and Sam frowned. "What do you mean, she's not the worst part of it?"

"She's been toppled," Ruby said simply. "Usurped. She's not on the throne anymore."

Sam froze, his gut churning even as he turned back towards her. "Who took her place?" he asked.

Ruby crossed her arms and met his gaze head on. "Just a little demon you used to call Meg," she said, and Sam shut his eyes tight. "You should've killed her when you had the chance."

"I know," Sam murmured. That had been Ruby's advice then, too. _Kill her while you have the chance_. But he'd been so focused on Lilith and keeping Dean safe, she hadn't been worth it.

She'd come after him. She'd come after Dean. Not because she probably thought he posed a threat; simply because of the bad blood between them. She'd torture and kill Dean just to upset him, not because she really cared.

Sam clenched his fists tightly at the thought. She wasn't getting anywhere near Dean; he'd make sure of it. The thought of Dean hurt...

How had his brother survived all these years being so worried and protective of Sam?

"He didn't, remember?"

Sam grit his teeth. "_Kindly_ warn me before you start reading my mind, Ruby."

"Hey, you were projecting loud and clear," she said, raising her eyebrow. "Not my fault. And don't get pushy with me, all right? I _like_ you and your brother. That's why I'm telling you this, not selling you off to her."

He snorted but said nothing. She was right; for whatever reasons she had, she'd not only stuck by them for the past seven years, but actually helped them again and again. He'd thought at first that it was because she wanted a political claim if he'd taken the throne, but even after dismissing that with Lilith's bargain, she'd still stayed by him.

Personally, he had a thought that it was a combination of saving her own skin from other demons and guilt over her past lifetime. Once, when he'd gotten her to an actual conversation, she'd mentioned siblings, and a child. No mention of a husband, no mention of the siblings or child past that day. She hadn't brought it up, Sam wasn't going to dig. Not while he had a child and sibling of his own to worry about.

Dean came bounding out of the house then, stopping on the top stair of the porch with his hands on his hips and a look so familiar on his face that Sam forgot how to breathe for a moment. "Are you coming in, Uncle Sammy?" he asked in exasperation, and Sam inhaled slowly.

"We both are," Ruby informed him, before stepping forward. Dean hurried back inside, and Sam followed for two steps before Ruby caught him by the arm. "He might remember one day, he might not," she said softly. That, she probably hadn't even had to read his thoughts to get. "He's still Dean. He's more than likely going to grow up with the same bad habits, attitude, and music choices."

Sam grinned despite himself. He'd had a mischievous thought, when Dean was almost two, to play classical music for him and have him grow up with it.

He'd found himself digging out Dean's old cassettes and playing AC/DC as loud as he could, instead. Dean had loved it, and had insisted on bouncing around to it whenever Sam played it.

"I know," he replied, equally as quiet. "He'll probably never remember. I just...I can't help but hope that he does."

"That I can't help you with," Ruby said simply.

* * *

After dinner, with dishes taken care of, and leftovers put in the fridge (Ruby never ceased to surprise Bobby when she offered to help clean), they left Dean in the living room to play and sat talking themselves in the kitchen.

"What do you think?" Sam asked. Their voices were soft, intended to keep little ears in the other room unaware of their topic and seriousness.

Bobby sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I...hell Sam, I don't really know. I mean, on the one hand, you've got the serious omens popping up in the West, and now we've got Meg back in the game, coming from the East?"

"Wicked witch of the East," Sam mused. "Wonder if we can drop a house on her?"

"Can we _please_ keep the conversation from witches, which aren't involved?" Ruby said, sending a baleful glare towards Sam. Sam hid his grin and simply raised his hands in surrender.

"All right, no witches. But how about swarms of black clouds spotted all over Texas and the Mexican border?" He opened his book to his intended page, then pushed it towards Bobby. "That's not just an omen; those are demons, and they're not stopping to possess people. They're coming further north."

"Last I heard, they were in Oklahoma," Bobby agreed, before he shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you, besides the fact that they're gathering."

"No," Ruby said, and Sam knew exactly what she was going to say. "They're gathered. Now they're heading for the meet-up, which is probably here, or wherever the hell the Winchesters wind up being that day."

Sam glanced out into the living room. Dean was on the floor with his toy cars, making rumbling noises that were punctuated with squealing tires and horns. There was a small smile on his face, one that Sam didn't remember ever having been there growing up. Dean had grinned and laughed and rolled his eyes, but he hadn't really smiled. He'd lost the innocence for it.

He wouldn't this time. Sam hadn't told him anything about demons, and it was going to stay that way. He wasn't letting Dean anywhere near the battle zone. Ignorance was bliss and _safety_.

"When do you think she'll touch in?" Sam asked. "Tomorrow?"

"Quite possibly," Ruby said reluctantly. "I doubt it, but she's bound to know how I found out. Which means she'll hit harder and faster, hoping we haven't gotten it together by that point."

"Then you're staying here tonight, and I don't want an argument," Bobby said, pointing his finger at Sam before he could disagree. "You'd be safer here, with all the runes and two people-"

"One demon," Ruby interrupted.

"Watching over Dean," Bobby finished, giving Ruby a look which she firmly ignored. "And I know you've got your place as barred from demons as I do, but safety in numbers. And, if Meg does come tonight or tomorrow, I'm not twenty minutes away from helpin' you both."

Sam sighed slowly. "All right. But I need you to promise me something."

"Oh god," Bobby groaned. "Last time one of you asked me that, it didn't end well, and you still found out about your brother's deal."

Sam filed that little nugget of information away for another day, then leaned forward across the table. "I need you to keep Dean here tomorrow," he said as quietly as he could. "I'll go tomorrow and try to head Meg off near the state border, where there's not so many people, and Dean's nowhere nearby."

"I'll go with for backup," Ruby told him. "Besides, when it comes to demons and fighting them, you do a lot better when you've got one on your side."

"I just need you to watch Dean while we take care of her," Sam said, eyes pleading with Bobby to listen. "Please?"

"She'll rip you both to pieces," Bobby said, clenching his jaw. "I don't like it."

Sam said nothing, and after only a few moments Bobby's jaw let go to drop. "You stupid sonuvabitch," he breathed, before his voice began to rise. "You know you're gonna get yourself killed, and you don't care that Dean'll be-"

"I have cared about _nothing_ ever as much as I've cared for Dean," Sam said low and hard. "I don't want to die, I don't want to lose him, but if I have to to keep him safe, then so be it. I won't let him get hurt, and I _won't_ see him lost in the same world that claimed him the first time."

Silence fell, thick and hot between them, before Ruby huffed and pushed away from the counter to step between them. "Did we get the testosterone out?" she asked, glaring at the both of them. "Sam's not stupid, Bobby. He's not going to martyr himself. What he _was_ trying to ineffectually get out was that Dean's provided for. He made up the will two months after Dean was "born". There's enough money to pay off the last of the rent on the house, tidy up the bills, and leave Dean with something besides memories."

Bobby turned from her to Sam, his gaze not as angry anymore. "This true?" he asked, his voice quiet once more.

Sam nodded. "You're the guardian, by the way. If anything happens to me. I didn't really ask when I did it, but I assumed-"

"Right. You assumed right. If something happens to you, _IF_ something happens, I'll take care of him," Bobby said, before shaking his head. "I'll take care of you, too, if there's a body left to take care of."

"Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby stared at him for a long, solemn moment, before shaking his head. "You'd think after everything that you two would get a break or somethin'. World owes you both something considerable for everything you've been put through, what you've done for the world."

"Not this lifetime," Sam said softly, glancing over at where Dean was still playing. "That's what the second one's for."


	3. Chapter 3

"Uncle Sammy?"

Sam blearily opened his eyes to the upset child in front of him. "What's the matter?" he asked softly, sitting up. "Bad dream?"

Dean bit his lip, then shook his head after a moment. "No?" Sam asked, concerned now.

"Not really," Dean whispered. "I, um, heard you and Mister Bobby fighting. With Miss Ruby."

Sam froze, but swallowed past it and forced the words from his lips. "Fighting? What did you hear, kiddo?"

Dean shifted back and forth uncomfortably on his feet, and Sam finally scooted back. "Get up here, you," and Dean needed no further invitation to scurry into the bed and Sam's open arms. "Now what's going on?"

He heard Dean breathe in sharply, then let it out with his words. "What's a will?"

Shit. Sam cursed himself and Bobby for getting as upset as they had in the conversation. "Miss Ruby said you maded one up," he continued.

"Made up," Sam corrected, before sighing. "It's...complicated."

"Then don't let it get complicated," Dean answered back, sounding out the last word and enunciating each part with vigor.

Sam smiled in spite of himself. "Okay. A will is...a set of rules, really, and if a certain something happens, then those rules have to be followed."

Dean thought about this for a moment. "Like for laundry? You know, you have to put allll the white clothes in one pile, then allll the red clothes in 'nother pile, and if you mix 'em, then you get pink?"

Chuckling, Sam shook his head. "Sort of. Though I'm glad you remember that, uh, problem we had."

"It was funny," Dean said, giggling. "All your white shirts turned pink."

Oh yeah. Sam was certain Bobby wasn't going to forget that anytime soon, either. Perfect blackmail material right there. "Were the pink shirts supposed to happen?"

Dean shook his head against the pillow. "So if the shirts get turned pink again, what are the rules I need to follow?"

"Well, first, you gotta laugh," Dean said firmly, and Sam grinned. "'Cuz if you don't laugh, then you can't get nothin' done."

"Anything done."

"En-ee-thing done," Dean repeated diligently. "Then, you have to go to the store and buy new ones."

"And the old ones?"

"Wear 'em or get rid of 'em."

"Right. That's sort of what the will is, except it's a little more serious."

"Like if you leave?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam gazed through the dark at his brother. Wide, green eyes gazed back at him in solemnity and a touch of fear. "Like if I leave," he finally had to concede. "Those rules are for Mr. Bobby to follow, and he'll make sure you're okay, okay?"

Dean bit his lip but said nothing. With a sigh Sam pulled Dean in until they were forehead to forehead. "You listen to me," he said softly. "That trip I have to go on tomorrow? I'm gonna try to get home after it, and not stay gone for too long. If I don't, though, it's not because I want to leave. I just have to, for a little while."

"But you'll come back, right?" Dean asked, eyes starting to shine. "Right, Uncle Sammy?"

"I'll do my best, Dean, I swear," he replied, his own eyes starting to burn. Of all the things he'd never wanted Dean to feel again, the fear of Sam leaving was one of them. He'd put that fear into his brother when he'd left for college, when Dean had been over twenty and an adult in most rights. Now he was putting it into his brother at the age of _six_.

"No matter what happens, you know I love you, right?" Sam whispered. "And I wouldn't go if I didn't have to?"

Slowly Dean nodded. "I know you don't wanna go. And I love you too, you know," he added.

"I've always known that, kiddo. Always."

* * *

The next morning, Sam was ready to go at nine. At least, most of him was. His brain was firmly set on "pack, arm, drive".

His heart was still back inside with Dean.

"We gonna go?" Ruby asked, but she already knew. There was no impatience in her tone, only a softness he forgot she still had.

After a moment, Sam headed for the trunk. "In a minute," he promised, opening the lid and digging through the contents. Another moment later, he found what he was looking for, and headed back inside.

Dean was sitting quietly on the sofa, staring at the floor. He glanced up when Sam came in, eyes lighting up when Sam came around to crouch in front of him. "You're staying?" he asked hopefully.

Sam gave a sad smile. "I can't, Dean. But I've got something for you. I was going to give it to you on your sixth birthday, but as someone keeps reminding me, you're practically six already." He fingered the item in his palm briefly, then turned his hand over and let it dangle.

It was as if Sam was eight again, on Christmas morning, with his brother before him. Wide eyes full of awe reverently took the item in, before hands reached out to clasp it carefully and tenderly. "Can I wear it?" Dean whispered.

Sam nodded, widening the cord, before reaching forward and slipping the golden amulet over his brother's head. The cord was tightened, and once it was on, Dean glanced down at his chest where it lay. Then he raised his eyes to Sam. "I'll never take it off, promise," he swore. "It's the most wonderful thing _ever_."

Sam tried to reply with a welcome, but his throat refused to work. He finally settled for a smile, before rising and heading back outside. Ruby was right; Dean was going to grow up and be Dean, no matter what Sam did.

The only thing that Sam could possibly change was his involvement with the demon war.

Bobby waited for him at the door. "Be careful," he said, before reaching out and clasping him by the hand. "Dean won't be the only one sorry to see you go."

The gruff words spoke volumes of how worried Bobby really was about the whole thing. "Then I'll try not to make anyone sorry," Sam replied, earning a quick grin from Bobby for it. Then he was down the porch stairs, towards the car, where Ruby was waiting near the passenger door.

"Wait! WAIT! Uncle Sammy!"

Sam turned in time to brace himself as Dean hit him at the legs. He knelt and pulled Dean into a hug, his mind pushing the thought that this could be the last.

"Don't go," Dean whispered, and Sam had to pull back to confirm that Dean was crying. "_Please_ don't go, Uncle Sammy."

"I'll be fine, I promise," Sam said quietly, smiling. "There's nothing to worry about, okay? I promise you, you'll be okay."

"But you're worried and sad," Dean hiccuped, gulping past a sob. "And...and..."

"Just grown-up stuff, Dean. Don't even worry about it, okay? I'll be home before you know it." He'd held off saying those exact words, fearful of promising Dean something that wasn't going to happen. Dean wasn't going to be consoled with anything else, though.

Dean blinked back tears and sniffed once. "You promise?" he asked, his voice small.

Sam internally winced but said, "I promise."

"Okay," Dean said, before wrapping his arms tightly around Sam's neck. "I love you," he whispered into Sam's ear.

If Sam didn't leave right then, he was going to either stay or burst into sobs on the road. Neither was what he needed to do. "I love you too Dean," he whispered back. "So so much. Don't you forget it, okay?"

Dean nodded into his neck, and Sam reluctantly pulled away. He gave a smile that didn't feel real or anywhere near full, but Dean attempted one for him, too. Then he hurried back up to the porch, where he stood beside Bobby.

He stared there as far as Sam could see as they drove away, until Sam couldn't see the Singer Yard in his rear view mirror anymore.

* * *

Something was wrong. He knew it, just by how everyone had been acting. Only Miss Ruby hadn't been acting weird, but even she'd seemed sad.

Mister Bobby had been all pinched in the face, like he'd bitten into something that tasted nasty. He'd glared at Uncle Sammy for most of the night, but then later, Dean had found him crying. Mister Bobby _never_ cried.

Uncle Sammy cried sometimes, when he was really sad and upset. And he'd cried last night, staring at that picture of him and his friend. He'd looked sad, sure, but he'd also looked...Dean didn't know if there was a word for it, and if there was, if he'd even say it right.

But something was wrong, and no one was telling him. He was _six_ now (well, okay, almost), they could tell him stuff. At least Uncle Sammy had told him about the will.

Dean didn't want Uncle Sammy to have a will. He just wanted his Uncle Sammy.

But now he had a necklace, just like Uncle Sammy did. He fingered the little golden face, then grasped it tightly in his hand. He'd never take it off; it was the best thing he'd ever gotten. His was gold and small; Uncle Sammy's was silver and red and weird shaped. He never took his off; Dean wouldn't take his off. It was that simple.

Now, if he could just get someone to tell him what was going on, he'd be hap-

The room tilted sharply, and Dean gasped, reaching for the wall. The room stopped, then did it again. "M-Mister Bobby?" he called out, hoping this wasn't some sort of sickness. He'd had one of those last year, and it hadn't been fun. Uncle Sammy had been upset then, too, but not at Dean, he'd told him that. He'd been mad at the sickness for making Dean's tummy all twisty.

The room shifted again, and Dean hurried to the bedroom where he stayed. Maybe if he stayed in bed, the room would stop. You went to bed when you were sick, anyways.

As soon as he crawled into bed, he closed his eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning. He was out like a light a few minutes later.

* * *

Sam parked the car off to the side of the road. There was a buzzing in the air now, one that made him anxious and nervous. "They're coming," was all Ruby said from the passenger seat, and Sam merely nodded.

Stepping out of the vehicle, the air felt warm and muggy, and he resisted the urge to swat at bugs that weren't there. The feeling of something swarming around him was the energy of the approaching demons.

"How close are we to a town? Last one we passed on the road was thirty minutes ago," Sam said. They were on a little known dirt road they'd taken to reach the border line of South Dakota.

Ruby closed her eyes, then after a moment, said, "Twenty miles west, there's a house. The other way's too far out for me to feel. I think we're in deep enough country that we can make a hit without hurting anyone else."

Which meant they themselves were going to get it pretty hard. Sam knew that Meg wasn't going to play nice anymore, wasn't going to play games with them simply because she could. She was coming for blood, and she wanted it all spilled.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Sam slowly turned to glance down the road. A small girl with long, black hair in a ponytail stood before them. Tank top, tight jeans, long leather boots. Sweet smile that held a little too much vindictiveness to be ignored.

Sam straightened his shoulders. "Meg," he greeted.

"Let's dispose of the pleasantries, Sam," she said, stepping forward. His hand immediately tightened around the car keys, and he found the one for the trunk without looking. "My name is Ayah."

"Suddenly that explains a lot," Ruby said, and the black haired beauty turned on her. It was enough. Sam turned and ran for the trunk, key sliding in and the lid popping open.

When he dared to glance up, Ayah's eyes were black, and the sky was a massive cloud behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

"_I've got him, Mary."_

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can!"_

"_Do you want the prize?"_

"_Dad lied to me. I want you to have it."_

"_Jessica, this is my brother..."_

"_I want to find Dad."_

"_They don't need you. Not like you need them."_

"_Time of death, 10:42."_

"_What are you, seven?"_

"_Hell is...well, it's like hell."_

"_Did you make a deal for me? How long did they give you?"_

"_I remember what it was like to be human."_

"_I don't care what it takes; I'm getting you out of this."_

"_I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother!"_

"_Jessica, this is my brother, Dean."_

"_I really don't like this idea, Dean. Yeah, I might get you back, but...it won't be you. It won't be the same."_

"_You're doing it! You're walking, Dean! I'm so proud of you, kiddo."_

"_That's my friend, right there. Yeah, I miss him a lot; he was the best friend I ever had, and I wish I could see him, talk to him one last time."_

"_I miss him a lot, but you know what? I got you out of it, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."_

"_No matter what happens, you know I love you, right?"_

Green eyes opened, taking in the room around him. Six years, and it hadn't really changed. Bobby had no imagination.

He sat up slowly, shaking to clear the last of the dizziness. Downloading thirty-five years of memories in what, twenty minutes or so of sleep? Hell of a crunch.

Sam _so_ owed him for that bet he'd taken. Sam-

Wasn't here. And that was all it took to get him moving.

He made his way to the living room, where Bobby was going through an old, dusty tome. He glanced up when he heard footsteps, then gave a small, sad grin. "Wondered where you'd gone to," he said. "You want lunch, kiddo?"

"Where's Sam?" he asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Bobby frowned and straightened. "Your Uncle Sam's-"

"Cut the crap, Bobby; _where's my brother?_"

Bobby stared in dawning realization. "_Dean?_"

Dean merely raised an eyebrow. He'd been able to do it when he'd been six before; no way was he losing the talent now.

Bobby shook himself a moment later. "Sam's, uh, off with Ruby." He shifted between awed and amazed, filled in with hope and happiness.

"Yeah, I remember that much. And everything else, before you ask," Dean said, holding up his hands. "God, it's so weird to be small again."

"We didn't even think you'd get your memories back at all," Bobby managed, even as he stood.

"_You miss your friend, don't you?"_

"_Yeah, I really do."_

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. Sam would get his friend back; he'd be a little more compact, but he'd have his Dean back again.

That was if he could find his brother.

"What's going on that he had to tramp off with Ruby? Bobby, what's going on?"

With a sigh Bobby made his way to the kitchen. "There've been omens running rampant through all the corners of the U.S. Ruby said it was Meg, comin' after Sam."

"Not Lilith?" Dean asked with a frown. "What happened with her?"

Bobby frowned himself, before he rolled his eyes. "Right. You weren't involved; you were two. Again." He made a face as he said the statement, then poured himself a cup of coffee. "Lilith started threatening Sam by means of you, and Sam had had enough. He gave up his claim to the throne, let her have it, and insisted that all he wanted was to be left alone. Lilith wasn't stupid; she took it and declared you both, and I think me as well, off limits. She knew Sam would hold by his word."

Dean blinked. "Okay. I want a cup of that, by the way."

Bobby sent him a half-hearted glare, but Dean wasn't fooled. His friend was happy to have him back; it was evident in everything he said or did. And he did pour a second mug of coffee, which he brought back over, albeit gingerly, to place in Dean's now six year old hands.

Dean made a face before he took a sip. _Five_ years old. He still had five days to go.

After he'd taken a good, long swig, he turned back to Bobby, who still looked amazed, but was quickly sliding back into his regular move-to face. Atta man. "So what's the upset about?" he asked.

"Lilith got tossed off the throne," Bobby said simply. Dean's stomach twisted at the instinctive knowledge of who had done the tossing, who had taken the throne, and who was the reason his brother was probably out somewhere with a freakin' _army_ at his throat.

"Did he say where he was going?" Dean asked. The mug was set down on the floor, completely forgotten now.

The protective urgency was alive inside of him once more, begging him and pushing him to find Sam and find him _now_. Two people against an army of demons?

"_Uncle Sammy? What's a will?"_

Well past time to find Sam.

"Towards the border," Bobby started, and Dean hurried for the door where his shoes were. Batman velcro shoes, like the ones he'd admired the first time he'd been six. They'd been passed by in favor of good boots.

He owed Sam so many hugs, it wasn't funny. This time around, Dean wasn't going to shy away from giving them, either.

"C'mon; we've gotta get out there," Dean said, and was surprised when Bobby pulled him back. "What-?"

"You're _six_, Dean," Bobby said. "Or just damn near. You don't have any strength, no running legs, your timing's probably for shit-"

"It's Sam, Bobby," was all Dean could say. He probably couldn't hold a hand gun or a _knife_ at this point, but he couldn't sit here when he knew something bad was happening. The image of his brother flashed through his mind. Sam, with tears in his eyes as he'd held Dean and promised to at least try to get back to him, was burned into his memory.

Bobby hesitated a moment more, before turning for his own shoes. "Move fast," he said, and Dean needed no more encouragement.

* * *

He saw the smoke first. Not demonic smoke; no, this smoke came from fire and destruction, which usually followed demonic smoke. It went up a good two miles, at least, and looked like a forest fire. When Bobby rounded the final turn, though, all Dean could see was a hole in the ground. A _big_ hole in the ground.

Bobby had barely stopped the truck before Dean was tumbling out, running like hell for the edge. Because ahead of them, halfway between him and the hole, was a black car that Dean would've known anywhere.

Sam wasn't in it. Sam wasn't anywhere near it. "Sam!" he shouted as loud as he could, and Sam didn't answer.

The smoke merely continued to rise in silence from the crater.

"Can you see anything?" he demanded when Bobby hurried to join him.

A moment, then, "No. Nothing."

"SAM!" Dean near screamed. Panic was swelling within him, pressing him to find his brother _now_. Where the hell was Sam?

Then, from the edge of the smoke, two figures emerged. Bobby had the shotgun loaded and steady on them before they became visible.

One was short with long blonde hair, and far too feminine to be a brother. What she was holding onto and fairly dragging, though...

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he ran forward. Ruby looked like she'd been to hell and back; her hair, which Dean had first categorized as blonde, was looking more strawberry blonde with all the blood that ran through it. Her chest was practically ripped open, and her jeans were down to capris, shredded and full of blood and what was probably guts.

She stumbled just as Dean had about reached them, and even as she went down she tried to lower Sam gently. "Sammy?" Dean called, stopping beside them, panting. "Ruby, what happened?"

Ruby glanced up with a sigh, then froze for half a second. She gave a grim smile after a moment, shaking her head. "I'll be damned all over again," she said. "It worked."

"Please tell me you're referring to the bomb," came a gasping breath from below. Dean crouched next to Sam, and finally truly caught sight of his brother for the first time.

His face was near black and red with blood and burns. His clothes were torn and ripped away, and the exposed skin was black with a lot more red flowing over it. A lot of the black, Dean could see now, was simply ash. The face had taken the worst damage.

Sam coughed hard, then couldn't seem to stop. Blood flew from his lips, and Dean stared as a sudden wave of grief and knowledge filled him.

Sam was dying.

"Sammy?" he whispered now, hesitant to touch Sam for fear of hurting him.

Sam turned towards his voice, frowning in surprise. "Dean? Oh god kiddo, I didn't want you to-"

"Cut the crap Sam," Dean said, angrily wiping tears away. "No more with the 'kiddo' stuff, all right? I'm not mentally six anymore."

"Five," Sam corrected with a breath, before his eyes widened slightly. "You mean...?"

Dean managed a grin. "Hey little brother," he said softly. "Been awhile, hasn't it?"

Sam barked out a laugh, then reached for Dean with his left hand. Dean clasped it between his two smaller ones, and watched as tears ran down Sam's face. "I didn't think I'd ever see my brother again," Sam whispered, his smile bright enough to light up a city. "You...oh man, Dean, I've missed you so much..."

"I know," Dean replied, smiling through his own tears. Sam's grip was loosening, and his eyes were blinking against the inevitable. "Man do I know."

Sam coughed again, but it was weaker, and Dean leaned in close to rest his forehead against Sam's. "Love you," Sam managed to make out, voice and breath nearly gone.

"Love you too, dude," Dean rasped, not even able to hide his hitching breaths anymore. What did he care? Sammy was _dying_.

Sam closed his eyes, still smiling, and his lips moved once more. Dean frowned as he tried to pick it out, only catching breaths of 'you' and 'flip'. "Sam? Sammy?"

The hand within his own two hands was limp, sliding away towards the ground. Dean's hands flew to catch it again, this time holding it closer and tighter. Sam was gone.

Dean closed his eyes and let tears roll unheeded down his face. He'd done the deal to avoid this, all those years ago. Sam was supposed to have _lived_, not died for a war neither of them had really signed up for. But here they were again, Sam dead once more, and Dean left alone to gather the pieces up.

"It's over," Ruby said calmly but almost gently, and Dean dared to raise his head once more.

"How do you know?" Bobby asked for them both.

Ruby glanced back towards the crater, and Dean followed her gaze. Between the smoke, he could catch glimpses of the bottom, where there looked to be a smoldering pile of dark branches. "We constructed a 'bomb' of magic and Latin, my powers and his knowledge," Ruby said, and it was then that Dean could see that the mass that was burning was more than likely the demons. "Ayah hit him the hardest; he held on as long as he could to finish her."

"Ayah?" Dean whispered.

"Meg," Ruby filled in, glancing down at Sam. "He...saved my life, down there. She nearly had me stricken from the records, but...he stood in the way. He didn't get too badly hurt for it, but I owed it to him to carry him out and back to you."

"Thank you."

Ruby turned and gave Dean a quick grin for the words. Then she nodded towards Sam. "I don't know the words," she said with a shrug.

When Dean frowned, she nodded more firmly towards Sam, and Dean forced himself to look down at his once again dead baby brother.

The silver amulet lay around his neck, unblemished despite the rest of Sam.

Dean stared, tears burning again in relief. "Do you know the words?" Bobby asked, trying not to emphasize too much hope.

"I do," Dean said. "Sam had us both learn it. Just in case." And suddenly, he knew _exactly_ what Sam's last words had been.

_See you on the flip side, Dean._

He laid his hand on Sam's shoulder, closed his eyes, and let tears and smiles mingle as he recited.

The amulet around Sam's neck glowed once, before dimming.

* * *

Four days later, Dean waited against Bobby's truck grill. The smoke was gone, the bodies had been taken care of (seriously, they owed Ruby a demon gift basket or something), and Sam's body had been left by the crater. He'd hated doing it, but it was how the ritual went; he could only imagine how horrible Sam had to have felt leaving Dean in the house all those years ago.

Sam's body was gone now, too, which gave Dean a little more hope that this would work.

"It's four days?" Bobby asked for clarification again, and Dean nodded.

"Four days; two for the resurrection, two for the rebirth. Or three for the resurrection, one for the rebirth; I'm not really sure how it works. Sam knew."

Suddenly a wail pierced the air. Dean shoved away from the grill and listened again, hearing a tiny cry that came from the crater. He began to run, shoes pounding the dirt beneath his feet until he reached the tiny white blanket by the edge, and the tinier person inside it.

Sam was _exactly_ the way Dean remembered him looking when he'd been brought home from the hospital. Dark hair, big brown eyes, fingers grasping at everything they could, and a too-big amulet around his neck. Dean carefully picked him up and cradled him, and Sam immediately subsided. He'd always needed encouraging and soothing to keep him from crying whenever Dad had picked him up; even Mom had had troubles. But Dean?

Sam had always stopped crying for Dean.

Dean sincerely hoped that Sam hadn't been too upset with him as a baby; he remembered the stories from his Dad, that nothing had been able to calm him as a baby, and they'd always had to wait until he'd cried himself to sleep. "Suspicious kid from birth," Dad had joked once.

Tiny fingers wrapped around his not-so-much-bigger finger, and Dean smiled wide. "Welcome back, Sammy," he whispered. "Happy birthday, too, from me to you."

_And happy sixth birthday to me._

With Sam in his arms, Dean headed back to the truck, where Bobby was waiting. He didn't even notice when the amulet disintegrated and flew away in the slight breeze.

* * *

_A/N: Ayah is a Hebrew name, meaning "vulture". I thought it was fitting._


	5. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

It didn't take much to hide and disappear; Bobby's yard was full of old cars. Perfect hiding spots that his mind remembered from years ago, and coupling _that_ with his eleven year old body, full of energy and fun, and Dean couldn't help but grin. This life around was perfect.

Well, almost. Sam still didn't remember anything about who they'd been. As far as he was concerned, he was five years old, and five days off from turning six. Dean's grin fell a little at the thought, and he shook himself. He didn't care. Sam was still Sam, and _alive_, and Dean would take that any day.

Footsteps were heard in the dirt, and Dean stayed quiet and crouched near the cars. The steps stopped, and he could practically _feel_ Sam's pout. God, the kid really hadn't changed; he still ran like the hounds of hell were on his tail, and didn't care about sound at all.

At least this time around, they didn't have to worry about those hounds. This life was a demon free as they could get.

The footsteps hurried away, and Dean dared a peek. Sam was peering around the yard, a goofy grin on his face as he checked above and below cars. With a grin of his own, Dean slid out from behind the car.

When he was close enough, he reached out suddenly and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. Sam shrieked and turned around, even as Dean was running away and laughing. "Tagged the seeker!" he called out, Sam's laughter spurring him on. He hit the porch steps at the perfect speed, skipping over the middle two and launching himself onto the porch. "Safe!" he yelled, turning back to watch Sam come running.

"I don't wanna be the seeker 'gain," Sam insisted, before tripping over a dusty root popping up from the ground, then landing face first in the dirt. Dean chuckled and shook his head, then realized that Sam wasn't getting back up.

Dean was down helping him up in a matter of seconds. "You are the klutziest kid I know," Dean said with a long suffering sigh, but he didn't let go until he was sure Sam was standing straight. He checked his brother head to toe, then back up again, all in a matter of seconds. Kid should've bounced back faster than that from a little fall. "You okay?"

Sam gave a sheepish grin and nodded. "Yeah, m'fine. Sorry Dean."

"How many times have I told you not to apologize for anything with me?" Dean said, crossing his arms. He'd made up several rules to himself and to Sam as the years had gone on. That one had come after Sam had accidentally spilled water on one of Dean's comic books. He'd looked miserable, with tears pooling in his eyes as he'd stammered out an apology. All Dean had seen was Sam after he'd been possessed, and that was it: the rule had been enacted.

"Lotsa times."

"So don't apologize, okay? You don't have anything to apologize for." THAT still took tons of pounding into Sam's head.

"M'kay. Sorry." Sam immediately pinched his lips shut.

Dean merely huffed and reached out to mess up Sam's hair. Sam batted at him, giggling, and the two headed inside.

Bobby was waiting for them with a raised eyebrow. "You boys enjoy the cars?" he asked, and Sam nodded vigorously.

"Dean knows all the hiding spots, though, so it innit always fun. But most 'the time, it is."

Bobby merely shook his head. "You boys want sandwiches for lunch?"

"Sounds great," Dean said, already heading for the kitchen. "Sammy, go wash your hands."

"'Kay. Be right back, Uncle Bobby!"

"I'm sure you will," Bobby muttered as Sam dashed off, and Dean grinned. "Kid's got more energy than I could ever hope for."

Dean gave him a look. "You're almost _seventy_, Bobby. You had that energy, once. Trust me, I remember."

He received a glare for his efforts. "You just love pointin' out how old I'm getting, don't you, mister I'm-doing-twelve-again?"

Dean waggled his eyebrows, and Bobby finally conceded with a chuckle. "I'll do lunch; sit your ass back down," Dean said with a no argument tone. "You want coffee?"

"I'm still breathing, aren't I?"

"Point," Dean admitted, pouring two cups. Sam had asked for a taste once, but Dean had denied it. Kid wasn't ready yet, and if memory served, wouldn't be ready until he was eleven. Dean's first mug of coffee had been at eight, and he'd fallen head over heels for the drink.

"Dean?" came Sam's voice from down the hall.

"Yeah, Sam?" He handed Bobby his mug as he waited for a response, then paused when he didn't get one. "Sammy?" he tried again.

"Dean?"

The voice was off. He sounded shaky, suddenly, and scared. Dean set his mug on the table and headed for the hallway with a frown.

Then he was running down the hall, to where Sam was collapsed on his knees, looking close to tears. "Sammy, what's the matter?" he asked anxiously. Behind him came the sure footsteps of Bobby, and Dean crouched next to his too pale brother. "Sammy?"

"I-I fell," Sam explained, voice wavering. "I...I felt sick, and I fell down, Dean. I don't feel so good."

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay," Dean immediately soothed, hand reaching out to smooth back hair from Sam's face. "You're gonna be just fine, okay? I promise." Maybe the fall had been worse than Dean had thought. Maybe he'd bruised something, or knocked the wind out of himself, or hit something inside, or-

Sam sniffled and nodded, but he still looked like he wasn't tracking things right. The entire look on his face could only have been defined as spacey. "M'head hurts," Sam whispered, right before he slid down to the left.

Dean caught him from hitting the floor, and then Bobby was there, picking Sam up with ease. "Bedroom," he said, and Dean quickly rose to follow. Head injury was the possibility now fore-front in Dean's mind, and everything about Sam's behavior was pointing to it. Sam was looking more drowsy with each step Bobby took, but he still kept his eyes on Dean all the way to the bed. Bobby laid him down gently, and Dean covered him up. Sam blinked once, twice, then his eyes stayed shut.

Dean stood there, staring at his little brother with growing worry, until Bobby finally pulled him out of the room. "Bobby-"

"I don't know what happened, but he's sleeping right now," Bobby said. "And I know the difference between unconscious and sleeping. Kid'll be all right; probably just got tired from running around."

"But so sudden?" Dean pressed. "Bobby, he took a fall out there, and he didn't get back up right away." At that, Bobby bit his lip.

"Wait here," Bobby said, before heading back into the room. He knelt next to the bed, blocking Dean's view of his brother for a few moments. He came back out, frowning and looking thoroughly baffled. "No bumps, nothing but evened breathing," Bobby told him.

Dean made a face, showing exactly what he thought of the situation.

"Might've been a headache," Bobby finally suggested. "Kids don't know what headaches really are, how to deal with them. Bad ones can be ignored until they're too powerful and bring you to the floor."

"Maybe," Dean agreed reluctantly. He glanced back towards the bedroom, where Sam laid, blissfully asleep. At least, Dean hoped it was blissfully.

With a sigh he let Bobby turn him towards the kitchen once more. "And for someone you just practically declared as old, I can still lift and carry without a single damn twinge," Bobby couldn't help but add, and Dean finally gave a grin.

They completed lunch, and Dean tucked a sandwich away in the fridge for Sam, when he got up. After a moment, he decided to put another one in there; kid was shooting up like a rocket, and Dean knew exactly what _that_ was going to lead to. Not like he could stop it; if anything, he was probably encouraging it more this time around. He still remembered what Sam had looked like in high school, gangly limbs and gaunt face from too fast a growth spurt and too few filling lunches.

Wasn't happening this time around. Not on Dean's watch.

Twenty minutes later, while Dean was coaxing Bobby into playing poker, Sam came out of the bedroom. He walked slowly but calmly, each step sure, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Must've just been a headache, then. "Hey kiddo," he greeted with a smile when Sam looked up. "How're you feeling? I made lunch; it's in the fridge. Want me to get it?"

"I think I can manage, Dean," Sam said, giving a small smile, and Dean stopped everything else save for staring at Sam. Bobby went rigid beside him, and Dean couldn't blame him. The voice, the tone, the look on his face...it was so much like his brother, but his brother about twenty years from now, and it couldn't really be...

Dean finally spoke. "Sammy?" he whispered hopefully.

Sam gazed at him long and hard, before his smile widened. "It's _Sam_. Thirty plus years, and you still can't get it right."

For a minute, Dean couldn't breathe. Of everything he'd thought wrong with Sam earlier, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten his own feelings when he'd gotten his memories back. At that point, though, he really didn't care.

All he could see was his brother's smile and the image of a face he remembered from twelve years ago, a face he'd see again as time went on. Sam was back. Sam was _back_. _His_ Sam, the Sam he'd spent twenty-five years hunting and living with, driving and pranking with, protecting and loving.

He moved away from the table, still unable to speak. Then he started to grin, and found that he couldn't stop. "We did it," he breathed, and then he laughed. "Man, Sammy, we _did_ it."

Sam chuckled slowly, then began to full out and out laugh, and then he barreled into Dean before Dean could run for him. Laughter full of joy and relief rang through the house, that after almost twelve years, they were _finally_ back together.

**END**


End file.
